Stare Into The Sky
by Eshekibeh
Summary: Ryou's dreams have always been of Amane, and failure. However, when the growing darkness settles, he's left in a world of his own, where his illusion of perfection begins to shatter. Unsure, he waits, unaware of the consequences of staying there alone...
1. Chapter 1

_He looked down at the little girl, hardly more than a toddler, with laughter glinting in his eyes. _

"_Come on, Amy! Give it back, now." He smiled kindly. The child giggled and shrieked, running away, holding his new necklace above her head. He'd let her hold it when she'd told him she wanted to look, and now he'd been chasing her across the estate for nearly twenty minutes._

"_Amane Bakura, you give that back, right now." He said, hands on hips, his voice sharp, but when she just looked at him oddly, unused to him being harsh with her. He held his arms out, instantly seeming more open and kinder. _

"_Come on, Amy, we should get back, it's starting to get dark." He said, and finally his sister started running along the opposite side of the street towards him - and as any six-year-old would, she didn't check the road before charging across towards her brother's open arms. _

_A strangled cry - his too-late attempt to stop her - echoed in the dim twilight, he was running towards her, but she was already on the floor, lying, like a broken puppet._

* * *

><p>Ryou woke in a cold sweat, instantly alert after his nightmare. He shook his head, running his fingers through his hair, trying to remind himself that it was not. his. fault.<p>

Glancing at his clock, he sighed. The red numbers told him that there was still two and a half more hours until school. Too early to get up, too late to go back to sleep. His shoulders slumped, and he picked up his pillow, and hurled it at the door of his bathroom.

_Worst timing ever... _He flung the covers back, and went to get ready, anything to distract himself from the thoughts he knew were about to start stampeding through his mind.

Sure enough, it started the second the first splash of water hit his face - Amy smiling, laughing, Amy on her first day of school, Amy, crying after her favourite plastic dinosaur's leg fell off. Amy. It hurt. He felt a tear trying to break, and dashed it away angrily.

_Mustn't cry, _he tried to tell himself, over and over, and forced a smile, splashing his face again. When he was finished and ready, he wandered down to the kitchen, to make pancakes.

By the time he had to leave, his smile was genuine, and the day's bad start was all but forgotten. After all, it could only get better.

* * *

><p>Night after night, I'd been here. Amy'd stopped haunting my dreams for the first time in what seemed like forever, and I was having my own. Or, well, building may be a more appropriate term - each night, the darkness shifted and coalesced into new shapes, new pictures, forming something solid and real. I couldn't tell what it was, only that it was dark, and predominantly shades of purple and grey and it scared me.<p>

I'd never been scared by my dreams before. Sure, I'd been furious, I'd hated them, they'd killed me inside, but I'd never been scared. It was unlike me to be afraid of the dark, as well - what I figured was scaring me.

But I also knew I was dreaming.

Isn't that supposed to not be possible? Well, there's lucid dreaming, I suppose, but really... I wasn't at all close to being conscious, and I wouldn't have woken if I'd tried. Not that I had. I just spent night after night, watching, waiting to see what my mind would make for me, this strange, purple-grey misty landscape of indistinct, blurry walls.

On the sixth day, it was done.

**Author's note: First chapter tomorrow, I promise. Unless I die :3 So yeah, if there's no chapter, assume the worst - or kill me when I get back ;) **


	2. Chapter 2

**And here it is! Wow, and I thought I'd fail to manage it... Sorry, a little of it may not quite make sense, as it's pasted together fairly quickly, but I shall come back to check it soon, once I've written a little more. Love you guys 3**

It was a strange thing to see, what I was pretty sure by now was my own mind - fascinating, really. I was in a hedge maze, at every dead end a cabinet, statue, fountain, something. As much as I wanted to search them for long-forgotten memories, facts and tidbits of information, I knew I shouldn't.

Besides, I couldn't. An almost overpowering force pulled me towards something that I deduced must be the centre of the maze. It was pulling, almost, and coming from my chest. I stood still, silent, watchful and wary, and it tugged me again, harder than it had been before, pulling me over with its power.

On the way down, I grabbed handfuls and handfuls of the leaves in an attempt to stop my fall. I came down gasping, fighting black spots in my vision, because it hurt.

By God it hurt so much, like pins being hammered into my brain - which if my guess was right, it essentially was. I groaned slightly, patting around the floor I was slumped on, wincing, eyes half-shut, until I recoiled suddenly, unwillingly.

The floor was slimy. Damp. _Moving_. I resisted the urge to reach for something to help pull me up, and climbed slowly, trying to touch as little of the floor as possible.

I ran, my eyes skyward, not paying attention, the imaginary line I was attached to never ceased to tug on me, and I used it's momentum to launch myself forwards at a sprint - straightaway barreling into another wall of the arboreal maze.

This time I screamed, gutteral and choking out, sounding wrong even to me. I clamped my hands 'round my ears, as if that would stop the pain building in my head, and followed the incessant pulling at breakneck speed, this time somehow swerving every corner, only causing the barest hint of a shiver on the leaves every time I missed slightly.

It was nothing compared to the pain I was already feeling, but each time I touched the walls, it got worse, until I was convinced that each touch was destroying part of me, and that the only way to find solace was to reach the maze's heart.

Finally the tugging lessened, and I stumbled forwards - whatever had been guiding me had given up now, I suppose, and I had to find my own way to peace. _Only a few more corners_, I told myself, over and over. _One more, one more, and I'll be there_.

I was wrong. I kept wandering, sure I was going to collapse every moment until I finally saw what seemed to be a literal light at the end of the tunnel. By now I was convinced that I was trapped forever in a dream, but I blundered on towards the light, trying to keep myself quiet.

But I had nothing to fear from my own mind, did I? It was me. It was a part of me. I could face it head-on. There was _nothing _to be scared of inside my own head. But still I slowed, and made an effort to tread lighter than I had been, and avoid the walls, and to ignore the pain pulsing in my head still, from when I'd almost destroyed one of the bushes.

I tried not to think of what that meant for me. If each leaf was a part of my mind... How many had I torn from their branches? Would they heal?

I froze when I finally came to the clearing, bathed in eerie silver-pale-blue light. There, sat on the edge of the fountain I had no words to describe was... me. Except it couldn't be me, because I'm me and that just wouldn't make sense. Or would it? I really wasn't sure of anything anymore.

What _was _this place? It hadn't scared me before, not really. Not even when it hurt me. But here, seeing the me in the pool of light... I was terrified.

He was humming - something that sounded suspiciously like a particularly out-of-tune rendition of the Final Countdown. Not something I'd choose to hum, so evidently this wasn't me? I think. I'm really no longer sure. He was frowning, I noted, tapping his foot and the coiled ground - I still hadn't identified what it was, tried not to think about what I was walking on.

He suddenly looked up, and I wondered if I'd made a noise, or if he knew somehow else I was there, or whether it was just a random glance - but his almost-frown began to turn into a smirk, then finally, he laughed, his face morphing into a twisted grin.

"Took your time, Yadonushi." He said, clicking his teeth in disappointment. I made an effort not to gasp, or anything at all, really, because _I knew that voice_. It was _him_. The laughter. The one who'd cackled over that letter, years ago.

I racked my brain, unsure if I was familiar with the term he'd used - I'd been in Japan for nearly eighteen months, but I was still trying to get to grips with the language. Somewhere, off in the distance - I swear - I heard the unmistakable noise of a filing cabinet opening, and rifling paper.

I almost ignored it, but I was sure I couldn't have heard something like that. Even if filing cabinets could open themselves - I'd assumed it was just _this _me and the real me here, as I hadn't met anyone else in the maze in the hours I figured I'd been wandering - I shouldn't have been able to hear the sound.

That meant _he'd _heard me scream, didn't it? If I could hear something as quiet as the slide of a drawer on runners...

Thinking of the time I'd screamed made me realise that what I'd thought earlier was true - the second I'd reached the centre of the maze, my head had cleared, and it didn't hurt anymore. I breathed a sigh of relief, and carefully thought through what to say to my other me.

I'd meant to ask who he was, why he was in my head, but I realised they were questions based in an assumption of uncertainty. So instead, what came out was, "What is this place?".

"Are you sure you don't know, Yadonushi?" His grin faded, and for that I was glad. It was unnerving, the way he smiled, like a cat, or the Joker. Instead though, a smirk began to grace his face.

I shook my head, even more unnerved. It was strange seeing those expressions on my own face - expressions I wouldn't ever see otherwise.

"Sure?" He knew I knew. I was certain of it.

"It's my head, isn't it?" I told him, marvelling at how steady my voice was - I didn't sound scared, as far as I could tell. But the returning feral grin on the other me's face told me otherwise.

"...No." He said, slowly, drawing the single syllable out over a number of seconds, taunting with dancing eyes.

I grumbled, and almost without realising it, reached up to smooth my hair, run my fingers through it - a nervous habit I'd picked up from some of the girls in my classes - make it look okay, as I realised how ridiculous I must look, having not even bothered to clear out the twiggy dead leaves after my fall. For some reason I hated to look ridiculous in front of this other me, the mirror me.

"Funny, Yadonushi, I never took you for vain." He said, bottom lip curling up into yet another smirk.

He was like a digital signal, almost, or binary, at least where expressions were concerned. Either smirking like the cat got the cream, or grinning in that feral, demented way that scared me no end -a leer, really. Both were accented by a harsh gaze that made me shiver even in the completely perfect temperature of the maze.

"Who are you?" I asked, changing my question. His smirk grew wider, already beginning to shift to his - my, whatever he was - leer that shook me so much.

"Finally the question I expected you to ask first, Yadonushi. How very... Wrong of me to assume so." He curled his lip in distaste, and inwardly, for some reason I could not fathom, I celebrated that he'd now shown a third expression.

"But again, I must ask: are you sure you don't know?"

"You're me." I added, after a pause to think. I was almost certain of my answer this time.

"No." He snapped, eyes flashing dangerously. He slowly picked himself up off the edge of the fountain, and it was then that I should have run.

I should have run, not stared transfixed at all the minor details I'd missed that made him not quite me - shadows under his eyes, that no matter how little sleep I had never formed under my own, his hair was longer, he was taller, and though he seemed as thin as I was at first glance, I could now see that he was far more muscular than me - like he could take on a rhinocerous and win. "You disappoint me, Yadonushi." He took a few steps forward, a fourth menacing expression breaking across his face. "I overestimated you."

He lunged forwards, and I barely dodged - I noted with a half-smirk of my own that he had the courtesy to stop his pitching forwards before he hit the inner wall of the maze, and it amused me how his arms flapped slightly, trying to find something solid to balance on in the thin air around him.

Once he'd gathered his balance, he tried again - why didn't I expect that? Prepare for it? - and this time caught my shirt in one hand, and used the other to pull my head up from where I'd been pretending to be interested in my shoes to meet his eye. He towered over me.

Grasping my chin tightly, he pulled me up to my tip-toes, so that he could talk straight into my ear. Quietly, pulsing with anger.

"No, Yadonushi. _You_ are _me_. Never forget." He dropped me. "First lesson."

"Second lesson," he said, as he snapped his fingers, "is that you are _not_ to defy me." He trailed off as I faded into dreams, real dreams - not memories. Dreams.


	3. Chapter 3

**I feel really stupid posting this up now, because if I post daily I'll run out eventually, and then there'll be waiting. I much prefer writing Bakura's scenes, as you can probably tell from the length differences. Love you guys 3**

Ryou woke exultant, still reliving the final moments of his dream – a rather strange affair involving an ice cream van and a cop chase. He stretched his arms out, swatting at his bedside table, trying to turn the alarm off. He'd forgotten just how loud the sound was, having not heard it in months, always well awake before he had to be.

He cracked his eyes open, marvelling at how he'd slept a full night – not only that, but he'd dreamed. A psychedelic dream that made no sense, admittedly, but a dream nonetheless. He hadn't dreamed since...

He inwardly slapped his forehead, guilt welling inside him, but he forced it down. Too long had he been slave to the ghost of Amane living inside him. This time he wouldn't back down. He'd win. She wouldn't haunt him anymore.

Padding around the semi-lit room - pale green from the light of a lava lamp - he kicked yesterday's shirt and jeans under the bed, vowing to deal with them later.

He slumped down on the bed and finally acknowledged the dull thumping in the back of his mind - but jumped up, panicking, when he realised a little late that he only had minutes to get out the door. He hurried through his morning routine, skipping a multitude of his rituals, ingrained into him since his insomnia started.

Hardly stopping for anything, except his coat, lunch money and a painkiller, Ryou ran from the house, taking a shortcut he'd avoided since he slipped on a wet bin bag earlier in the winter. He trod carefully, watching where his feet went, then carried on towards his school, arriving at his form room seconds before the bell rang.

Grinning to himself under a veil of hair he'd let fall to obscure his face, he zone out of the conversations around him, ears only pricking occasionally when certain words caught his attention. 'Change of Hearts' was one such phrase, but before he could analyse the context, the bell rang once more and he was swept up in the tide of students heading to their first lesson.

He used the few seconds he was in the corridor for - his lesson was only three doors down - to collect himself together. In the right frame of mind, he was a sponge for facts, receptive and curious, of course full of questions that most teachers didn't have a clue how to answer, wanting every last bit of information he could ever have a use for.

Trapped in his stupor, the day passed in a blur, almost instantaneous but underlined by Ryou's knowledge that hours were passing. Literature, drama, art, maths all passed seemingly in seconds, until that clanging bell that resounded in his head signalled another day over, and Ryou finally woke from his half-consciousness.

He was sure he'd taken in everything mentioned in the day, but he couldn't for the life of him remember any individual thoughts, and reactions to what he learnt. Passing it off as a side effect of his slightly too-often usage of painkillers, he let it slide with only a mumbled, "Odd." in the same shortcut alley as the morning.

Exhausted, despite his full night's rest, he collapsed into sleep the minute he was free from his mother's questioning about his day.


	4. Chapter 4

Hey guys… This chapter's a little disjointed, but then again, everything I write is. I don't pretend to be any good at this :P Anyways, I'm back to writing the bits I like, though I'm completely stumped as to what to do next, so it may be a few days before I update – I'm toying with the idea of just skipping Ryou's next day at school and going straight to the third confrontation, but that'd wreck the illusion of normality I'm trying to set up – feedback would be awesome. Much love 3 3

**On with the story!**

"Greetings, Yadonushi." The other me smiled his horrifying grin. A jack-o-lantern, I noted absently - that's what he looked like.

I raised my arm in a half-wave. "Hello." I said, grasping for straws as I had no name to call him. His grin, which, before, had hidden an almost happy expression, I dared to imagine, now held only disdain.

"You will address me as Master, Yadonushi." His grin vanishing then rising again in the space of an instant. I bit back and uncharacteristic harsh retort and raised my head in defiance. I don't know what it was about the other me that made me not want to look at him, to keep away, to set my gaze locked on my shoes - carefully, though, not paying attention to the writhing coils that made up the uneven floor.

"No." The word rang out almost as loud as the slap that followed. I recoiled, forcing down a shriek of pain, clutching my hands to the red mark forming across the side of my face.

"Do not test me, Yadonushi."

Once again, I fought back the urge to say something I'd regret, and settled for a cold gaze instead - not quite a glare, but close. Contrary to popular belief, I do have a brain - and furthermore, I know how to use it.

"You don't, Yadonushi." The other me said calmly, as if nothing was wrong, as if he hadn't just done something impossible.

I stopped the slight scuffing of my feet and that not-quite-describable floor, ceased the tapping of my finger on my thigh, and slowed my breathing - in essence, I froze; yes consciously, if that makes any sense.

"Wha-?" I caught myself. "Pardon?" The other me sighed, and pulled himself up from the stone bench, in that languid way He'd used the first time. He'd had practice at it, I could tell.

"You'll catch flies., Yadonushi, like that." I shut my mouth, but reopened it a second later to reply.

"There are flies here?" I hadn't noticed anything living in the maze, aside from the maze itself and the mirror me.

"No," He said, shrugging. "but that's not the point - the fact that I thought it'd be obvious, Yadonushi, that I would know everything that happens inside my own head. Again, you've disappointed me..."

Completely surprisingly, I found myself vowing not to disappoint again, not a third time. I still hadn't worked out why I craved his acceptance.

"Your head?" I questioned, once what he'd said sank in through my multitudinous surface thoughts. "Why am I here, then, if it is your head?" I suddenly felt like an intruder to something private.

He took a step forward, and I, in turn, took two back, remembering the last time he'd paced towards me.

"You're scared." I distinctly heard him mutter, though I did not protest - it was almost inaudible and I was sure I wasn't supposed to have heard it.

"Forgotten the first lesson already, Yadonushi? Perhaps I ought to recap before our third..."

He tsked, and sat down cross-legged on the floor in once move, folding his legs on the way down.

"Sit." He ordered, impatiently, and I complied, albeit with less grace. He was like a cat in his movements; clear, strong, fast and yet seemingly oh-so-slow, whilst I, in comparison, looked like... I don't know. A goose.

I'm turning into quite the poet, here, am I not?

"As much as I love compliments, Yadonushi, I have no interest in your thoughts, so please; allow me to begin."

The last request was more an order - like everything my other me (or I the other him, I really wasn't sure anymore) 'requested' - his voice laden with sarcasm.

I leaned forwards, elbows resting on my knees, hands supporting my face, and I cocked my head, showing I was listening. With a mocking slowness, he leaned back, resting his head on hands clasped behind him, like a sunbather.

His feline smile reappeared. "I imagine you want to keep your thoughts away from mine, no, Yadonushi?" I was beginning to hate that word, the way he said it, with calculated precision and agonizing slowness, like a teacher to a particularly dimwitted student. I disliked the connotation. It was beneath me, I thought, in my overconfidence.

The other me clicked his teeth in irritation. "Now, now, Yadonushi." He said, drawing out the syllables just to spite me. "I am a teacher, and you are a student - if not dimwitted, you still know nothing."

I opened my mouth to protest, but he stopped me with a raised hand - a sharp motion, snapping it into midair, the universal sign to stop. "Hold your tongue." He said, through gritted teeth, showing his frustration.

"Now. Your first lesson was..?" He trailed off, into a question, but I was unsure whether it was supposed to be rhetorical. After a few, ancient seconds of silence, and his expectant expression turning into that of a petulant child, I supplied an answer.

"I am you." He cracked a smile, an internally I celebrated his pride.

"Correct, yet I'll thank you not to insult me." His expression instantly switched to a smile of malicious glee and I cursed my folly.

"Second lesson..." He prompted, and I racked my brain for his exact wording.

"I am not to defy you." He bridged his fingers into an arch I'd always associated with cartoon villains and frowned. Then came the next question.

"What is this place?" I was about to throw the question back at him - I'd asked the same thing the last time I was here, and he hadn't been forthcoming with the information. I stopped myself, however, when I remembered the prickle I'd felt on the back if my neck when I'd felt like I was intruding. "You mentioned it was your head."

"Good, good." He smiled. "Yadonushi, you're observant. You catch on quickly - admirable traits indeed." I almost glowed under the strength of his praise.

"I trust you saw the cabinets on your way in?" He asked next, almost casually. I thought back, then nodded an affirmation. "What are they?"

I shook my head, clueless. "You mean you didn't look? What happened to curiosity, Yadonushi?" I glared.

"I was preoccupied... Master." I felt the need to speak to him by name, and it was the only one I had.

The other me cackles gleefully, throwing his arms out wide, his next words choked out through laughter.

"No need, no need..! Just a test... In fact, it reflects badly on you, Yadonushi, that you would be prepared to address one so, that easily! Bakura will do."

I gaped, upset. "But that's my name!" I cried, but again he silenced me with a gesture.

"No, no - it is mine! You are merely borrowing it, Yadonushi."

"Bakura..." I said, tasting it on my tongue. It felt strange, surreal, to be using it to refer to anyone save myself.

"Well, as I was saying, I was distracted." I wince, thinking back to the pain.

"Yes, yes!" His relative calmness evaporated, replaced by more peals of laughter. "You fell! You crashed! You hurt. It hurt, didn't it? I bet it hurt! The feel of death." I noted that he had a tendency to babble when amused as a small smile spread across his lips. "Did you work out the nature of the shrubbery yet, Yadonushi?"

I smiled my own sly grin. "It's my... Your..." I stumbled. "Our! Brains. A physical manifestation of our mentality?" I phrased the last part as a question and... Bakura nodded, the clapped, almost mocking but not quite.

"Very good, Yadonushi." He smiled yet again, his face having found a whole spectrum of expressions as I spoke. "And a long word, too! Aren't you a clever one?" The sarcasm dripped. I was beginning to hate how little he thought of me.

"Now, the cabinets. We have little time remaining, but next time, find one. Read. Examine. Tell me your findings, then I will teach the third lesson." He smiled, almost sadly, and waved as he stretched and stood, again in a single movement. "Farewell, Yadonushi."

I woke.

**I'd forgotten how much fun this was to write until I reread it! I love Bakura, he's awesome. Almost wish I had a Yami ;)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Ack this looked so much longer in my notebook (my handwriting size fluctuates, I suppose. This was something like 19 A5 pages.. no idea how O.O) and I feel really guilty, so I'm going to desperately try to finish the next bit by this evening. Just got back from holiday, and I don't know how reassuring it is, seeing as I just said that 19 pages was 300-odd words, but I've got something like 70 pages written. **

Ryou spent a further three days in his strange state, hardly understanding anything. Nothing sunk in. It was like he was paused yet still moving, or something equally stupid and poetic. After the second of four, his friends had given up trying to get him to involve himself, deeming him to be in one of those all-too-common teenaged strops.

The fourth day, however, was clearer. Celebrating his apparent return to normality, he treated himself to an extravagance - pancakes. _Twice in a week, _he thought, as he piled Nutella and slices of dried banana onto his first with one hand, starting to swirl the batter for his next with the other, which he intended to coat in sugar.

He shrugged and sighed and told himself that he had reason enough to, and that his mother wouldn't mind, especially as he'd left a beaker of batter on the sideboard for her. It had been a strange week, he noted.

Rising suddenly from the stool he'd strategically placed directly between the hob and the kitchen table, to fetch a second plate for the extra pancakes - _how did I forget that? I'm turning stupid! _- he blinked back black spots in his vision. A quick decision saw him crossing the kitchen to find the medicine box, meant to be hidden but quite obviously not.

Dry-swallowing a painkiller, thinking about how it tasted foul compared to the Nutella he'd just eaten, he carried on with the cooking. He stumbled a little on the way back to his perfectly-positioned stool, but thought nothing of it.

Just as he was about to slip into dreaded monotony, _something_ snapped him completely aware. However, it lasted only seconds. After that, he was... gone. Whatever was in his place licked it's lips stole his next pancake and then headed straight out the back door, with hardly a backwards glance.


	6. Chapter 6

**Feel free to hate me. I broke my almost-promise. I feel really guilty, actually. I'm sorry that took so long, especially as I said it'd be mere hours... D: To counteract the bad news of how long it took, however, here's some good: it's essentially finished! I need to write two more chapters (unfortunately they're the next two), and after that, I have another three and it should be done.**

The third time I found myself in the maze, I was alone. Bakura wasn't there. I shouldn't have thought much of it - after all, he'd had to be found the first time. His appearance the second time might have been coincidental, or it may have been planned - either way, I didn't have enough data to work from.

Dismissing my initial thoughts, the random ones that had no purpose, I stumbled across the memory of the order Bakura had given to me at the end of our last meeting.

_Find a cabinet. Read. Examine. Report your findings._

He'd sounded just like my physics teacher, then, I realised absently as I set off out of the square. I trecked through numerous corridors formed by the hedges, looking skywards to avoid having to se the floor.

'Up was indistinct', was the first description I thought of, followed by 'black mist'. It was foggy and stormy at once, two things that'd never happen together in reality. It was much nicer to look at than the floor.

I dragged my eyes downwards hurriedly when I realised that I should have been paying attention - I'd almost walked straight into a statue of what seemed to be Bastet, if my limited knowledge of the Egyptian pantheon was correct. I wondered why it was there. It was such a strange thing to have. Perhaps I'd gotten it wrong, and it was some obscure, Japanese Goddess instead? I made a mental note to ask Bakura.

I carried in again, leaving Bastet, or whatever she was behind, this time looking at the leaves instead.

I'd once heard that putting your hand on the left wall of a maze and following it would eventually lead you out. Though I - currently - didn't want to leave, I decided to put my theory to the test in my hunt for the cabinet.

They'd once seemed abundant, but now that I was actively looking for them, there didn't seem to be any. Murphy seemed to hate me today - or was it Sod? I'd never worked out the difference. There was never a reason to.

Eventually, my thoughts drifted off. I couldn't tell you what I was thinking in that time, even if I wanted to - it's hazy and indistinct and I think that's how I found the cabinet.

I wanted to lunge right for the top drawer, read everything I could in a little time as possible, but something made me slow down and hesitate.

I took it slowly, guessing before I even started. But nothing that I thought would make sense... But then again, this place was something else. It didn't have to make sense.

I reached for a middle drawer, slightly hesitantly, and pulled it. It made a slight grating noise on it's rollers, which reminded me with a jolt of the noise I'd heard when I first wondered about the name Yadonushi.

Papers spilled out, lots of them, of various ages and conditions. Roughly half an half, they were split into sections, lined refill pad and what appeared to be some sort of parchment.

I picked one of the refill pads, and flicked through it quickly, with a quizzical stare. It was my handwriting, but nothing written there was familiar. It was curious, I decided. An account of my twelfth birthday.

When I picked up the other paper, the parchment - or as I'd now decided, papyrus (coupled with what I was _sure_ was Bastet, I thought there was something strange going on) - had a spidery script decorating it's pages, written with what seemed like reckless speed.

Whereas what I'd written was undeniably biro, the papyrus was written in some sort of dark brown, almost black ink, and had the distinctive marks of an ink pen.

As I read, I found myself grinning and smiling. The author certainly had a way with words. It was a highly amusing text, yet I was jolted into a sort of stupor when I realised who it was who must have written it.

We'd been together since I was twelve, at least, me and Bakura? I frowned. I don't know why that seemed so terrible to me. Perhaps I was put out by the fact he hadn't contacted me sooner.

It was then that I realised that I did, in fact, enjoy Bakura's company. Yes, I had little data to go on, but what can I say? I've always been slightly reckless with my opinions.

"You _are_ a quick one, aren't you, Yadonushi?" I'll admit that Bakura frightened me, but not that I jumped. "Though in this case, that may, in fact, be a bad thing..."

"Hello, Bakura." I said, what I thought of as confidently, yet I could tell how taut and wound up I sounded. I glanced down at the sheafs of paper in my arms, so that I wouldn't have to meet his gaze. Just until I calmed down.

"Yours, I presume." I said, at length, breaking another one of those tense silences that so often fell between us. I passed the papyrus sheets to him, as he nodded his acquiescence, stretching like a cat, and yawning. I, however, noticed the glint in his eyes that told me that he was anything but bored.

"Your account of my birthday was truly riveting." I said, when he did nothing further and the quiet began to feel uncomfortable - him just staring, watching me like a hawk watches prey.

"You've worked it out, then, little Yadonushi? Aren't you a clever one?" A sickenly sweet smile was plastered over his face, curved at the corners of his mouth, somehow managing to be a smirk at the same time. I felt my blood boil at the addition of an even more belittling prefix to the already annoying title.

"Stop calling me that, Bakura." I said, absently wondering where my courage had come from. Normally I'd just live with the name and ignore it.

"Feeling feisty, are we, Yadonushi?" I didn't answer, so he continued.

Stalemate.

Neither of us willing to give in.

Finally, I cracked. Patience was never one of my strong points. "What does that term even mean?" He blinked, once, twice, and stared at me, then sighed.

"You don't know? Apologies, Yadonushi. My expectations of you have shattered. A year and a half in Japan and you haven't learnt such a basic word? I may as well find a new _host_." His emphasis reminded me that I had heard the word before, and mentally I kicked myself, if that makes any sense, given where I was.

I wanted to ask him how I could host him if I were he, I swear, but what came out was completely shocking, to him and me.

"Please don't go."

After a moment of stunned silence, he spluttered, I laughed, and he hummed awkwardly for a few seconds. I clasped my hands behind my back, awaiting his judgement.

"Yadonushi, Yadonushi. Very forward with your opinions, aren't you?" He said, still awkward. He carried on, unfazed, however. "Well, I couldn't leave you if I even wanted to. So you're stuck with me, for better or for worse. Until death do us part, I'd say, and that's _very_ unlikely." His grin was back. I wasn't really sure how I felt about his comment - I was pretty sure it was quoted from marriage vows, though why I thought of that, I don't know.

I frowned. "So, Yadonushi - no, I shan't stop calling you that - you've worked out what the cabinets are, then?" I nodded, and told him they were memories. His smile was back in full swing, and I didn't really have a choice but to offer him a small smile in return. "Now, how do you get to them?"

I felt a little silly, stating the obvious. "You walk." But he shook his head and frowned and laughed, at the same time.

"No, no, no! You do not simply _walk _to a memory! How do you access them usually?" He asked, and sat. I followed him down to the floor.

"They... tend to be reactions to stimuli? If someone said the word, say..." I paused to think.

"Velociraptor?"

I nodded, thankful for the word. "Then I'd think of almost everything I know about dinosaurs."

"Ah, sound reasoning - but, Yadonushi, that's _knowledge_, not memories. You're answering the wrong question."

"Well, fine, then. If I saw the house I lived in in England, I would remember things that happened in England." _Amane. _It was the first time she'd troubled me in this place. I worried. Having forgotten about Bakura's strange skill, I almost jumped at what he said next.

"Your sister will not haunt you here, Yadonushi. I won't let her." I frowned. I really didn't like him knowing _everything_ I thought, especially not about my little sister. "Well, then, hurry up with the questions, then! I will only tell you how to stop it once you understand why it works, Yadonushi." He said, tapping a finger on his wrist, like there was an imaginary watch there.

I shook my head, at a loss. "How, then?"

Bakura smirked. "Cheater." He said, gleefully, with the smug air of someone who's had a joke planned for ten minutes, waiting for you to say the cue.

"You don't consciously access your memories. Even if you think it's conscious, it's not. The trick to getting there is to not aim to be there - a skill you used pretty quickly. I expected days before you could find something."

I wouldn't waste another chance to question. "How does time work here? You can tell it, can't you? How? You don't have a watch. There's no sun. There's no stars."

He tutted again. "Practice. Relativity. Days I measure in your visits. I knew when to send you back because I could feel you beginning to wake up. Eventually you'll be able to, as well, if you spend enough time here.

"Speaking of the time, goodbye!" He said, waving jauntily as he woke me up. Before I lost consciousness, however, I noticed something I certainly didn't want to.

Disappointment.


	7. Chapter 7

**I reread this chapter, almost cried at it's terribadness, and rewrote it. Sorry for the first version. Chapter 10's written, as is 11 and 12, but... as of yet, no 8 or 9. Sucks to write out of order, no? D: I shall try hard! Currently my computer's broken, however, and so I shall be trying to update at weekends when I can steal Mother dearest's computer. *glomps readers***

Ryou woke slowly, mumbling and groaning, fighting back a dim throb of pain. He twisted, mumbled complains, but carried on his morning as usual. The sudden bruises could be chalked down to carelessness, the cut on his arm easily unnoticed, and hadn't he hit his head on the spice rack last night?

He wasn't completely sure, but it didn't really matter what caused his injuries, he supposed - just whether a painkiller would make. it. stop.

Satisfied with the result (a significant dimming of the pain), he headed off to school.

Wednesday. Ryou hated Wednesdays. Triple art, physics and Japanese. He couldn't draw, wasn't at all creative - something he regularly complained to himself about - and his language skills were at best, atrocious.

Physics was the day's one redeeming factor, and even then, it was taught at far too basic a level. Generally, he used the time for self-reflection, pondering on the inner workings of the world, and the book he'd been reading the night before.

Which was why he was so startled that, upon thinking of it, he realised that he hadn't read a book last night. He hadn't for quite a while, even - but he couldn't remember why.

Shaking his head and running the last couple of streets, he was yet again surprised upon his arrival at his classroom. Glancing around at everyone, he noticed a distinct lack of the heavy, spiral-bound A3 sketchbooks that were standard issue for the art class. Covering his surprise, he glanced at the calender - Monday.

_Wait, what? _He was sure it was Wednesday. It was a Tuesday the day before. Unless time had gone backwards, something strange was up.

Monday. _Damn_. Biology, chemistry, double maths, English. He had _none_ of his equipment for the day. What was wrong with him? He grumbled, and took his seat.

Seconds later, he was forced to turn around, as Anzu prodded him in the back.

"Ryou-kun! Where've you been?"

"Where I always am, Anzu..." He said, mystified. Anzu looked at him pointedly, but otherwise ignored his unwillingness to use honorifics. Everyone was used to it by now, but it was still a little strange. Acceptable, due to his blatant Britishness, but still strange.

"Ryou-kun, you've not been in school for a week. We were worried!" _I find that hard to believe_, he thought, sardonically, and seemingly from nowhere.

He didn't have a clue why he'd thought it. He wasn't usually that bitter, nor rude. Of course, he wasn't as close to Anzu and her friends as... well, her friends. He doubted she considered him as such - too antisocial. Then again, this was Anzu... everyone was Anzu's friend.

But, he wasn't supposed to be attempting, however half-heartedly, to psychoanalyse Anzu's relationships with her friends.

It sunk in. He spluttered; his pensive expression cracked.

"Excuse me?" inwardly, he panicked. Anzu looked stricken. She reached towards him, putting her hand on his forehead.

"Your temperature seems fine, Ryou-kun. Are you sure you're better, though?" Ryou wondered slightly why she'd thought he had a problem that would addle with his temperature, but shrugged it off.

He shook his head, and turned away, dismissing her somewhat more rudely than he ever would under normal circumstances - but these were not normal circumstances. Nearly a week of his life had seemingly disappeared, and he had not a clue where to.

Anzu willingly shrugged off his rudeness, yet again, and spent the next five minutes staring at the back of the strangest person she'd ever met's head, wondering about what exactly he was thinking of, to the point of ignoring Yuugi calling her. Minutes later, the bell went, and she was called to the front to carry the register to the reception.

A further few minutes - less time than it should have been, realisitically, she noted, guessing that they must have looked through her class' first - and the tannoy system crackled to life, calling Bakura Ryou to reception. It was almost depressingly easy to work out that he'd have a hard time, and that they wanted to know where he'd been.

She stared after him, as he quietly slunk out of their biology lesson, metaphorical tail between his legs, wondering why she hadn't made the effort to befriend him sooner, and determined to change that once she saw him again at break time.

She wasn't to know that she'd missed her last opportunity to speak to _him_.

The receptionist wasted no time at all in telling Ryou about how much trouble he was in - apparently he was spotted during the last week out of school, doing things that no ill person, as his mother's emails had claimed, would be able to do.

She also wasn't afraid to tell him just what would happen if he were to miss school for his 'extracurricalar activities', airquotes gestures included in a horribly condescending, patronising way that reminded him of _something_... no, some_one_.

The fleeting recognition was soon gone, however, and Ryou found himself not just unwilling, but unable to dwell on it.

The day passed agonizingly slowly, a craquelure of pain forming across any thought that decided to fill his head, until, over dinner, he slumped backwards in his chair, unconscious.


	8. Chapter 8

**Sorry for taking so long. Of course I managed to kick my muse into gear at three o'clock in the morning, but I suppose that's life. So yeah. This was typed on my iPod at stupid o'clock, so excuse any typos. I just want to get it up right now, so I'll probably fix it later. I intend to go through the whole fic when I'm done. Because some of it makes no sense, and I dun like that. **

**This went in a slightly different direction than I intended, which means I get to screw with the structure of the story, and it'll be.. hmm.. 2 chapters longer than I thought, I think.**

**Ta for reading 3 **

It was bliss, being back, painless, with a clear head. I could ignore the fact that I was parched, and hungry, for the fact that I _remembered_.

I leapt up from my perch on the edge of the fountain, looking around for Bakura. Excited. I got to see the shadow in my mind again.

He wasn't there.

I wondered where he could be, almost absently, as I began to wander off. Perhaps it was like last time, when he appeared after a while. I didn't have a clue. I still had far from enough data. I had to collect more.

Yes. That's a not-so-subtle way of saying that I want to see him again. No, don't smirk. You would too, if you were me.

"Oh, really, Yadonushi?" I looked up, suddenly, almost hurting my neck. Bakura was reading from one of the many refill pads that were in the drawer he had open. I noted the absence of leather-bound sheets of papyrus.

"Bakura. Hello." I said, what I hoped was impassively. My cheeks were heated. He was reading everything I thought. I fought to keep my mind blank, but all it did was make it worse. Made me think of things I wouldn't want Bakura reading.

Han Solo. Jeff Buckley. Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Bob Dylan. _Bakura._

He shot me a wink and I almost wanted to cry.

"You have... strange tastes, Yadonushi." He laughed - no, cackled - at my stricken face.

What a sight I must have been, red as a tomato, hair messy, a sheen of sweat on my brow, trying to hold a neutral expression and failing.

I gave up.

"You can't fault them, though, can you, Bakura?"

"Indeed I can't."

"You're not Japanese, are you?" The question had been on my mind for a while. Since I found Bastet, pretty much.

"Very astute. No, I am not."

"You're Egyptian." It wasn't a question. I was reasonably certain with my guess.

"How can you tell?"

The red on my face was dying down, I think, but as I realised, it flared back up.

"It was Bastet, at first. The papyrus reinforced it."

"Not much to go on."

"So you're Egyptian. What's the deal with the Japanese nickname, then? How'd you learn the language? You're part of the Ring, aren't you..?"

He interruted me. "The Ring is part of _me_, Yadonushi. Do _not_ forget who is in charge around here."

"Duly noted. Anyway, haven't you been in Egypt all this time? How old are you, anyway? And why Bastet?"

"My, my, what a lot of questions. I'm not sure if I remember them all. Luckily for me, I have them written down."

I blanched as he twirled his fingers complicatedly - flinched as it seemed a couple of his fingers dislocated to achieve it - and a long, thin ink pen appeared in his hand.

Dear Lord.

He shifted the refill pad, cocking it in his elbow, and began to write. I bit my lip.

And then the strangest sensation came over me. It felt as if chunks of me were locked out momentarily, and replaced.

I recognised the feeling. The heaviness that'd enveloped me for days, back in the real world, the one outside.

Bakura could change my memories.

It was a terrifying prospect.

"You're clever, Yadonushi, you know." Yes, I do.

And then he was done. I looked back in my mind, and now I could remember him answering the questions as I asked them.

_"So you're Egyptian. What's the deal with the Japanese nickname, then?"_

_"I like the word 'yadonushi', and it suits you."_

_"How'd you learn the language?"_

_"I didn't."_

_"Haven't you been in Egypt all this time?"_

_"Essentially, yes. I had a brief stint in England, as well!" I could remember his smirk, though I knew it never happened. It was strange._

_"How old are you?"_

_"Old. Three thousand, give or take. Two thousand nine hundred and seventy six is as good a guess as any."_

_"Why Bastet?"_

_"For you."_

So many more questions. I couldn't think.

Lord, he could change my memory.

"Why can I not remember this," I gestured around at the maze, "outside?"

"Because this isn't real, Yadonushi."

"Yes, it is."

"No, it damn well isn't. Can't you see? It's all in your mind." He smirked.

Of course he was right.

"Why does Yadonushi suit me?"

"I don't know. It just felt right, damn it."

I was confused. His vocabulary was all wrong. He'd not sworn before, as far as I could remember. _He can change your memories, Ryou._

"Why would I change something as trivial as that, Yadonushi?"

I shook my head silently, and thought up another question.

"Bastet. What did you mean by the fact that she's for me?"

"For your protection."

"From what?"

His smirk curved, softening into a smile, which turned feral in a heartbeat.

"Me." He lunged. I dodged, and tripped on the uneven surface. He caught me. I smiled. He laughed.

Suddenly, I felt tired. Sad.

"Bakura, why am I missing six days?" I asked quietly. I wanted a nap.

"I stole them, Yadonushi."

"Pardon?"

"I'm a thief. They once called me the Thief King, before I was imprisoned." He stopped abruptly.

"So you stole a chunk of my life."

He sighed. "I've stolen more than that, Yadonushi."

"Explain?" Even if I'd asked less than politely, I hoped my far from expectant tone made up for it.

He seemed weary as he answered. "I'd rather not. You're tired."

"Yes..."

"What did I tell you last time? About something you'd feel if you stayed here?"

"I'm waking up?"

"Yeah." An odd slip of a colloquialism, as opposed to what I'd come to expect from him.

"But I don't _want_ to." I winced at how ridiculous I sounded.

"There's another choice. I'll give it to you, if you so wish."

"What is it?" I thought I already knew.

"I can wake in your place, Yadonushi."

"How?"

"You are me. In a way, that makes me you. I can take your body."

"You stole it last week."

"Yes?" A distinct change had come over him in the last minutes. It was strange - he was calm, resigned, almost apologetic.

"What do you intend?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why not?"

"You're not ready."

"When will I be?"

I tried to fight back the tiredness.

"I don't know."

"Will whatever you're doing be legal? No, it won't. Of course not. Will you be safe, Bakura?" I worried for a moment.

"Of course."

"You can, if you wish, then." I felt a strange sense of urgency. Perhaps it was the heavy tiredness that enshrouded me.

"Godspeed, Bakura. Come back safe." I fought it.

"Thanks, Yadonushi." He reached out and touched my arm, lightly. I smiled, and resisted the strange urge to giggle like a twelve-year-old girl meeting Justin Bieber. _I did not just think that_.

"You worry me, sometimes, Yadonushi."

"You and me both.." I yawned.

"Final minutes. If I don't go, you will, before much longer. It's a bit like what I suppose you've come to expect from sleep, but backwards. Feel free to look around. The cabinet next to Bastet, that's for you. It'll explain."

And then he flickered. Another second and he was gone. I was instantly wide awake, and I began to search.


End file.
